Watchmen in Black
by Beth Einspanier
Summary: The result of an idle mind, too much caffeine, and an overall feeling of "What would happen if..." Agents J and L of the MiB hunt a shapeshifting alien in Ankh-Morpork, and enlist the help of the Watch. Naturally, things don't go smoothly. Revised!
1. Prologue

Author's note: Finally got around to tidying this thing up. Hopefully it'll be easier to read now.

Other Author's note: This fic takes place between _MIB_ 1 and 2, and sometime after _The Last Continent_

*****

"Freeze! We have a warrant for your deportation!" The fugitive fled into a blind alley, the pursuers close behind. As they turned the corner, they saw that the fugitive had vanished, but the escape route remained: a gaping, swirling vortex like a hole in reality.

"Zed, we got a slider," the woman said into her communicator, "Pursue?"

"Affirmative," came Zed's tinny voice from the communicator, "The Zzrt'lan people are adamant that Lyteria not get away from us again."

They regarded the vortex for a moment.

"Ladies first," said the man, bowing and gesturing grandly towards it.

She smirked. "Nice to see chivalry isn't dead," she said, and stepped through.

*****

End Prologue.


	2. Chapter 1

All was quiet in Ankh-Morpork that spring evening. The coating on the surface of the Ankh was a beautiful shade of emerald green, and had charitably decided to smell less strongly than normal, not that most Morporkians would have noticed. The peace was soon shattered on Morpork Street, the site of the pork futures warehouse. Witnesses would compare the sudden din to someone summoning a tornado in a beer tin, which then decided to implode. Against all logic - such as there was in the city - people were shouting inside the warehouse, and not to be let out.

"Where the hell is she?"

"Over there!"

"Cover the exit!"

"Holy... I don't think she's gonna use the door, J."

High above the street, an upper window of the warehouse exploded outward under the force of a figure leaping through the glass. She dove down to the street, rolled to absorb the impact, and took off at a sprint through the crowded streets.

"Stand back!" shouted a voice inside the warehouse, shortly before an explosion left a perfectly round hole in one wall, big enough to accomodate an adult troll. The smouldering edges and the fog of condensation swirling through the new egress provided the perfect backdrop for the two newcomers, a man and a woman, as they stepped through. Both were dressed in black, and wore spectacles with smoked glass in them. The man held some sort of weapon in one hand, but it was so absurdly small that there was clearly no way it could have made a hole that big. Green smoke trailed up from the business end, which he idly blew off. They looked around.

"Either we landed in a RenFest," he said, "Or we are _definitely_ not in Kansas anymore."

"This doesn't even look like Oz," replied the woman.

"Excuse me," he said to the pedestrians at large, "Would everyone who saw a naked woman jump out of that window and run through here please raise your hand?"

Nobody moved.

"A clothed woman?"

Nobody moved.

"Yo habla ingles?" he shouted, in the manner of people who do not know the native language but believe that shouting loudly enough will nonetheless make them understood.

"This is getting us nowhere," said the woman, "Maybe we should try to find local law enforcement."

"And what do you think they'd be able to do about it?"

Sergent Fred Colon and Corporal Nobby Nobbs watched the pair with some trepidation.

"Say, Nobby," said Colon, "What d'ye think they're about?"

"Nng..."

"Think they're wizards? Sure blew a big hole in the side of the warehouse..."

"Hrnnn..."

Colon looked at Nobby. "What happened to your cigarette?"

Smoke was coming out of Nobby's ears. He burped, expelling a cloud of nicotine.

"Oh. Making an Officer of the Law Swallow His Dogend In Shock. Might be worth a fine or something." He looked at the two strangers. "Wait here." Nobby, his eyes getting rather bloodshot by now, just nodded miserably and waved feeble encouragement. Colon Proceeded over to the agents. "Scuse me, sir. Ma'am."

"Are you a member of the local law enforcement?" asked the strange woman in black.

"Could be. Do you two have any violent vendettas against the Ankh-Morpork Watch or any of its members, the settling of which would cause massive bloodshed, i.e., mine?"

"No," said the man in bewilderment, "We just got here."

"Are you magic users of any sort, i.e., witches, wizards, shamans, or priests of a deity that requires unpleasant hexes to be cast on unbelievers or anyone whom the high priest does not enjoy the company or like the face of?"

"No. What--"

"Are you registered members of the Assassins' Guild?"

"No! Assassins have a--?"

"Then I am placing you both under arrest for Disturbing the Peace, Blowing a Bloody Great Hole in the Side of a Public Building, Making an Officer of the Law Swallow His Cigarette in Shock, and Attempting to Impersonate the Usual Mode of Dress of a Registered Member of an Established Guild, i.e., the Assassins' Guild. That last one requires protective custody, just so you know. Do you understand the charges against you?"

"You lost me after Disturbing the Peace," said the man, "Look--"

"Nobby, come over here and help me collect their weapons. Nobby?" He looked over to where Nobby was standing in a light haze of smoke and retching onto the street. "Uh, never mind." He turned back to the agents. "Hand over your weapon, sir."

The man in black looked at the weapon in his hand. "I don't think that would be such a good idea," he said.

"And why not?"

"Uh, this was a gift... from a very powerful man. I hate to think what he'd do if I lost it."

"Is he a wizard?"

"Yes." The answer came without hesitation. After all, he thought, sufficiently advanced technology frequently resembled magic. The Watchman's face assumed the hoped-for degree of paleness. "In fact, he wants us to talk to you guys."

"Wasn't me!" Nobby blurted reflexively.

"We're chasing a fugitive," the woman explained, "But we lost her in this area."

"A fugitive?" said Colon, "What's she look like?"

"Well," said the man, "She's about 5'5, blonde hair, athletic build, stark naked--"

Nobby nearly swallowed the fresh cigarette he was lighting.

"--although this could have changed since we lost her." Any part of it, in fact, he thought.

"I should think so," said Colon, a bit flustered, "It's dangerous for a young lady to be out here by herself. Even clothed. Naked? Are you sure?"

"Hard to mistake."

"Ah. Yes." Colon cleared his throat. "Maybe you two should accompany us back to the Watchhouse."

"Just what I was thinking," said the man.

"Uh, just for the record, what are your names?" He produced a notebook and a stub of pencil.

"J and L."

There was a pause as Colon thought about this. Finally he wrote: "Names ar Jaye + Elle."

*****

She finished fastening up the dress that the unconscious woman at her feet was kind enough to donate She felt something in one of the pockets and upon investigation, found a small business card:

This Carde Certifies that  
Holder is an Official Member of  
The Guild of Seamstresfes  
Authorization: Rosemary Palm

She tucked the card back in her pocket and studied the Seamstress for a few moments. Then she shook her head, and her chin-length blonde hair exploded into a cascade of red curls to match the Seamstress'. She hid the woman under some rubbish in the alley and stepped out ont the cobbles of the main road, whistling tunelessly.

*****

The agents sat just inside the main office of the Watchhouse and stared at the motley crew of Watchmen. There were a number of short, bearded watchmen with surly expressions, and one of them had a definite curl to the beard, and wore eyeshadow, lipstick, and a leather skirt and high-heeled armored boots.

J leaned over to L and muttered, "I didn't even know they had drag queens in medieval times."

Corporal Littlebottom glanced at the agents. "You here to see someone?" she asked.

"We're waiting to see someone named Vimes," said L.

"That'd be Commander Vimes. Do you have an appointment to see him?"

"Not as such," said J "But two guys are going to get him for us."

"Mister Vimes is a very busy man." She yelped as a creature lumbered past, nearly knocking her over. The interloper looked as though someone had taken a large boulder, carved a caricature of a gorilla out of it, put armor on it, and brought it to life.

"The hell is that?" J asked, bewildered. Sergeant Detritus turned his huge frame to face J. His hand impacted with the side of his helmet hard enough to concuss a man. J realized he was saluting.

"Sergeant Detritus," he said, in a gravelly monotone, "Troll Division of de Watch of de city of Ankh-Morpork." He stared blankly, more or less straight ahead, until the next thought clicked into place. "Sir." He resumed looming silently over the agents.

"As you were," said J, after an uncomfortably long pause. Detritus lumbered away with the patient deliberation of a glacier.

"Looks like we were both right," remarked L, "This isn't Kansas, and it sure as hell isn't Oz. The question is: where is it?"

Nobby appeared in the doorway.

"Vimes says he'll see your blasted case," he said, very matter of factly, "But you sure as hell better make it bloody quick."

"No need to be nasty about it," said L.

Nobby shrugged. "I'm just tellin' you what he told me."

"Let me guess," said J, "Word for word?"

The agents stood up.

*****

End Chapter 1.


	3. Chapter 2

Silence descended on the clientele of the Mended Drum like the silence that ripples out from the doorway of a class of misbehaving students when the most feared teacher in the whole school walks in. All eyes turned to the doorway at the top of the stairs, currently occupied by a stunning redhaired woman in the sort of dress that only Guild Seamstresses wear. It suggested to non-Morporkians that the Seamstresses either needed to work on their sewing skills, or else not be so stingy with fabric.

In one corner of the Drum, a spirited game of Cripple Mr. Onion was momentarily put on hold as she strode in with the sort of gait perfected by runway models that would severely dislocate several regions in anyone else. One could almost hear a heavy drum solo following her down the stairs and into the room. At the table was a Guild thief by the name of Rat [because the Guild has to keep a quota of members who are nicknamed after various rodents], who lived up to his nickname not only in appearance, but also in his repuation for informing the Guild of nonguild thieves. He watched the woman over his shoulder, the game momentarily forgotten as she walked right towards him.

"Hi," she said, in the sort of tone that would make a statement like, "Looks like it's going to rain" sound like an invitation towards various extracurricular activities, "I was just wondering if I might discuss a business deal with you."

"B... business deal?" This did not happen to Rat every day, or in fact at all until that evening.

"In private."

"Um. What sort of business?"

"That's between me... and you." She pointed her finger at him, then used her finger under his chin to guide him into a standing position. "He'll be back shortly, gentlemen."

Rat barely heard the snickers of his buddies as he trailed behind the woman, utterly hypnotized by a silvery gaze about which his subconscious was screaming danger. She delicately climbed the stairs to the Lodging And Other area of the Drum and delicately minced her way along until she chose a room and went inside. Rat, not quite believing his luck, grinned and turned to fasten the door behind them. She reached out with the speed of a snake, grasped the greasy black hair at the back of his head, and delicately bashed his brow against the doorframe. Her features already resembled Rat's, a very disconcerting sight between a mane of curly red hair and the body of a Seamstress.

*****

Commander Sir Samuel Vimes stared across the desk at the agents. The agents stared across the desk at Vimes.

"So," Vimes finally said, "Sgt Colon tells me you two are bounty hunters."

"Not exactly, sir."

"Which one are you?"

"J, sir."

"J what?"

"J's all you need to know."

Vimes looked at the agents. The agents looked at Vimes.

"All right," said Vimes, "If you aren't bounty hunters, then who are you?"

"Fugitive retrieval," said L, "Special Division."

"What's the difference?" asked Vimes.

"Pay's lower," said J.

"I see."

Vimes sat back, lacing his fingers behind his head and stretching. "I have a few problems with your story," he said.

"Like what?" said J.

"Like why is she running around naked?"

"We surprised her, sir."

"I should say so. Did you try to nab her in the bath or something?"

"Not exactly, sir."

Vimes looked at the agents. The agents looked at Vimes.

"Then how, exactly, did she come to be in his state of dress?" Vimes asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"We surprised her, sir."

"Exactly how surprised was she?"

"Very surprised, sir."

Vimes ran his hands over his face. "Let me rephrase that. How exactly was she surprised?"

"That's restricted information, sir."

Vimes ceased looking tired and commenced looking annoyed. "All right," he said, "I'll play your little game. What can you tell me about her?"

"She's very dangerous," said L, "We've been tracking her for nearly a year."

"What'd she do?" asked Vimes.

"She impersonated a high-ranking official," said J.

"Ah."

"And his wife."

"Oh."

"And his mistress."

"Hmm. Talented woman."

"That's why it's taken this long to catch her," sais L, "She can disappear anywhere."

"I see. So where does the Watch come into all this?"

"It's your jurisdiction, sir," said J, "We just figured you wouldn't want a madwoman running around loose in your city."

"Damn right I don't. But I also don't want a pair of clowns in black blasting holes in public property with gods-know-what sort of weapons."

"Had to be done, sir. We were pursuing a dangerous fugitive."

"The question remains, though, of how you got into the pork futures warehouse to begin with."

"That's restricted information, sir."

Vimes sighed. "I should have guessed."

*****

Rat came down the stairs and gave a big grin and a thumb's-up to his buddies at the table. They laughed and clapped him on the shoulder as he resumed his place at the table and picked up his hand of cards.

"That didn't take too long," said one of them, "She musta been really hard up for Guild dues, eh?"

Rat polished his nails on the front of his shirt smugly. "Yeah, well I guess she just knew good fare when she saw it."

"Ah, shut up and play cards!" said another player. More laughter erupted.

Rat's silvery gaze drifted over the other players as he took up his hand of cards.

*****

End Chapter 2.


	4. Chapter 3

"Help!"

Angua heard it first. The voice's owner, a woman, was apparently trying to call loudly enough to attract attention, but not loudly enough to attract the wrong sort of attention. This was no great surprise, considering it was nearly midnight and any nightcrawlers who found a woman in distress would likely only succeed in distressing her further. Angua plucked at Carrot's sleeve and indicated the alley from which the voice had come.

"Hello?" Carrot called. When no one answered, he added, "It's okay, I'm with the Watch." He carefully approached the alley mouth.

"Captain Carrot?"

"Yes. I'm here to help."

"Somebody knocked me out and took all my clothes."

Carrot frowned and nodded as though this sort of thing happened to him all the time and therefore was not worth further comment. "Angua, stay here and guard her. I'll just go and get her a blanket or something from the Watchhouse." He jogged away as Angua entered the alley and found the woman, mostly covered by rubbish.

"Are you hurt?" Angua asked.

"No... but the Agony Aunts are going to have a field day with this one."

"You're a Seamstress?"

"Yeah. I had my Guild card with me, in a pocket of my dress, but, well..."

"Carrot should be back shortly with something to cover you up."

*****

Carrot poked his head into Vimes' office. "Sir, do we have any-- oh, you're in an appointment."

J and L turned in their chairs to see who it was.

"What is it, Captain?" asked Vimes, glad for the reprieve.

"Angua and I found a mugging victim near the Gamblers' Guild on Alchemists' Street. We need a blanket. Whoever it was, they took all her clothes."

Vimes blinked.

J raised his hand.

"What?" asked Vimes.

"It's possible that the victim might have encountered our fugitive," said J.

"Fugitive?" asked Carrot.

"Captain Carrot, these are agents J and L, from some agency they don't think I need to know very much about, chasing some fugitive they don't think I need to know very much about. Agents, this is Captain Carrot Ironfoundersson."

"Sir. Ma'am." Carrot touched the rim of his helmet to each of them in turn, then turned back to Vimes.

"We've got extra blankets in one of the closets," said Vimes, "And bring her back to the Watchhouse, so we can ask her a few questions about her assailant. And for the gods' sakes bring her in through the back way and don't let Nobby see her."

"Yessir." Carrot left.

"And you two keep in mind," Vimes said to the agents, "That I will ask the questions. It may be your case, but the mugging was in my jurisdiction."

"I think we should at least be in charge of apprehending her, _sir_." J managed to make "sir" sound as insulting as "asshole".

"I think my men are perfectly capable of apprehending one woman," said Vimes.

L muttered something.

"What was that?" asked Vimes acidly.

"I said, 'Famous last words,' sir," said L.

Vimes looked at the agents. The agents looked at Vimes.

*****

Rat glanced over his shoulder at the door to the room, grinning madly as he shed the borrowed clothing despite the hammering from outside. He kicked the trousers away to the base of the wardrobe and leapt through the open window only a moment before the door splintered and Rat's erstwhile buddies broke through. The leader followed the trail of clothing to the wardrobe and snatched it open, jolting the occupant awake.

It was Rat. He was wearing only his drawers, had a cut on his forehead, and was bound hand and foot.

"What happened?" he asked, in a panic.

"Nine-card Onion, my arse," said the lead thug, just before Rat made a very close acquaintance with the other man's fist.

Outside the Mended Drum, a small ginger cat padded out of an alley. It paused and cocked an ear to the sounds of violence coming from the second floor, then continued on its way. An imaginative observer would have sworn that it was snickering, or at least grinning. Its eyes were silver.

*****

The Seamstress sat in Vimes' office, wrapped in a blanket and not much else. Despite her Guild affiliations, she contrived to preserve as much of her modesty as possible.

"Name," said Vimes, keeping his gaze fixed on the tablet of paper he was using to take notes.

"Annabel Lotus," she said, "You did send one of your men to my Guild for some clothing, didn't you?"

"Yes, ma'am," Vimes said for perhaps the fifteenth time since Annabel had arrived at the Watchhouse, "And you will be afforded the utmost privacy in Constable Angua's room while you get changed."

"Good," she said, biting off the ending D, "And these two goofs? Why do they have to be here?"

"We think that your case might be connected to one that we're covering," said L.

"Who are you? The Weirdo Police?" Annabel demanded.

"Close enough."

"Miss Lotus, were you able to get a good look at your assailant?" asked J.

"May I remind you," snarled Vimes, "That the mugging took place in my jurisdiction, not yours. I thought I made it absolutely clear that I will handle the questioning."

J put his hands up in a placating gesture. "All right, all right. Don't have an aneurysm on my account. By all means, go right ahead."

"Thank you." Vimes turned his attention back to Annabel. "Miss Lotus, were you able to get a good look at your assailant?"

J rolled his eyes.

"It was all so confusing," said Annabel, "I only caught a glimpse of her in the shadows just before she jumped at me."

"What do you remember?" asked Vimes.

"Her eyes," she said simply, "They went silver when they caught the light from the streetlamp."

The agents exchanged a glance. Vimes glanced over Annabel's shoulder at them.

"Is there something you'd like to share with the rest of us?" he asked in the tones of a no-nonsense professor who has caught two of his students whispering across an aisle to each other.

"No, sir," said L.

Vimes returned his attention to the notebook, and by association to Annabel.

"Do you remember anything else significant about her?" he asked Annabel.

"She was very strong," said Annabel, "She might have killed me." She paused. "Who would mug a person and just take their clothes?"

"Someone who really needed clOW!" said J as L dug her elbow sharply into his ribs.

There was a knock at the door. It was the sort of knock that was accustomed to being answered, the sort that would happily move its attention to the body of anyone it didn't like the face of.

"Rosemary Palm to see you, sir," Carrot said from the other side of the door.

"Come in," said Vimes. The door opened, framing Carrot and, in front of him, Rosemary Palm, head of the Seamstresses' Guild. She strode purposefully into Vimes' office and gave Vimes the no-nonsense stare of someone who knows that everybody in the room with her knows why she is there, and expects them to jump to fulfill that goal. In her hands was a bundle of clothing.

"One last question, if you will," said Vimes.

"Make it quick," said Mrs. Palm. She looked at J, who was making the throat-abrading noises of someone trying not to laugh, and L, who was trying to show that she was not associated with J in any way.

"Did your mugger ever show you a Guild card?" asked Vimes.

"No," said Annabel.

"Thank you. I believe Mrs. Palm has some fresh clothing for you. Carrot will escort you to Constable Angua's quarters to get dressed."  
Annabel carefully got up, and she and Mrs. Palm followed Carrot down the hall. Vimes glared at J, who was still chuckling.

"What's so funny?" Vimes asked.

"Rosemary Palm." J smirked.

"Yes, that's her name."

"Do her friends ever call her Rosy?"

"Not that I am aware."

"Ah. It's just that..." J trailed off as he noticed that he was apparently the only person in the room who understood the joke. He cleared his throat. "Never mind."

"Mrs. Palm is a respected Guild leader," said Vimes flatly, "She has given many young women training in a number of sought-after skills."

"What sort of skills?" J asked, unable to reconcile what he saw of Mrs. Palm with any trade considered respectable.

"That's restricted information," said Vimes, not without a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

J snorted. "Fair enough."

*****

Leland Saccharo opened the back door to his shop and regarded the small ginger cat who had been scratching at it. The cat miaowed plaintively.

"My goodness," said Saccharo, "Don't you look a bag of bones. Let me see if I can get you a saucer of cream." He picked up the cat, who purred loudly as it was carried into the confectioner's shop.

*****

End Chapter 3.


	5. Chapter 4

The knob of a heavy wizard's staff beat a tattoo on the Watchhouse door, saying in Morse code, "I am a wizard and you had better let me in if you like your current species." It was nine o'clock in the morning. At the other end of the staff, Mustrum Ridcully waited patiently for fifteen full seconds before rapping on the door again. The door opened abruptly and the staff rapped on Detritus' heavy jaw once or twice before Ridcully managed to stop.

"I demand to see Commander Vimes!" Ridcully announced to the troll and four adjacent city blocks.

"Good morning Mr. Ridcully!" said a voice from the troll's general vicinity, though Detritus' mouth hadn't moved. Carrot sidestepped around Detritus. Currently, Carrot wore only a shirt and leather trousers, and he was holding his breastplate in one hand and a polishing rag in the other. "How can we help you?"

"You can help me by summoning Vimes," said Ridcully, not one to be easily deterred by Carrot's unshakable cheerfulness. He glared at Detritus until the troll stepped out of his path, whereupon he entered the Watchhouse.

"Commander Vimes is at brunch with Lady Sybil at the Selachiis'," replied Carrot, "Lady Sybil made it quite clear that 'he isn't going to worm his way out of it this time.'"

Ridcully frowned. "This is quite urgent, lad, I assure you."

"Maybe I could be of assistance," said Carrot, "What seems to be the problem?"

"Someone is trespassing in the Unreal Estate near the University. Rather blatantly trespassing, in fact."

"How so?"

"They're having a bath in a fountain."

There was a pause of several seconds as Carrot digested this.

"I'll try and rouse some of the lads to go and check it out," he said finally, "But I'd like a description of the trespasser, so we know what to look for."

"That rather depends on who you ask, Watchman," said Ridcully after a pause.

"How so, sir?"

"The Bursar thinks it's a hideous mutant demon crocodile. The rest of us..." He cleared his throat. "The rest of us can see quite clearly that the trespasser is a woman. A… _naked_ woman."

Carrot's pencil stub hovered over the notepad.

"We want her removed immediately," Ridcully said, rather pointedly, "She's distracting the students."

"If you'll just have a seat, Mr. Ridcully," said Carrot, "I'll see about it presently." He motioned Ridcully to a chair in the front office, the seat of which the wizard brushed off with a corner of his robe before sitting. Carrot departed.

"Scuse me," said a new voice from another doorway. Ridcully looked up from his contemplation at J.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"Wassup? I couldn't help but overhear what you were telling Hercules over there."

"Your name is Wassup? Are you from Klatch or something?"

"Could you tell me a bit about your little visitor? What she looks like, that sort of thing?" J strolled in as Ridcully rose from the chair to his full height.

"I wasn't paying very close attention to the details of her appearance," Ridcully sniffed, "It isn't a proper occupation for a wizard's mind."

"Of course not," J snorted, "Did you notice anything about her while you weren't paying one scrap of attention to her?"

Ridcully frowned. "I don't like your tone, young man."

"Trust me. This is crucial to nobody getting hurt or killed."

"Listen, Mr. Wassup, I don't know who you think you are--"

Another man appeared in the doorway, his round face flushed in anger. His gaze fell on J. "Are you a Watchman?" he demanded.

"Excuse me," snapped Ridcully.

"My shop was broken into last night! Now if you can't do anything about it, find somebody who can!"

"Okay," said J, "Now who the hell are you?"

"Leland Saccharo. I run a confectioners' near the Baker's Guild, and my shop was broken into last night."

"I believe I was here first," said Ridcully acidly.

"That Carrot guy's taking care of your problem, right, Gandalf?"

"Ridcully."

"Whatever. He's taking care of your problem, right? So siddown."

Ridcully went crimson. "Never in my life," he snarled, "Has anyone dared to speak to me in such a manner!"

J looked at Ridcully. "You know, you should consider anger management classes. You're headed for a heart attack or something with all that built-up stress. WHOA!" He ducked a bolt that erupted from Ridcully's staff and exploded against the far wall, leaving a splatter of molten plaster. J rolled behind a desk and covered his head as another meteorite sailed overhead. "You know, this is just what I'm talking about! Somebody could get hurt around here!" He took out the Neuralyzer and set it to one minute, then slipped on his Ray Bans. He stood up and aimed the device at Ridcully and Saccharo. "Smile!" They looked towards him.

FWOOMPH!

Both men stood in the doorway, glassy-eyed. J took off his Ray Bans.

"Alright. No need to worry, fellas, I'm sure Carrot can take care of getting that nekkid girl out of the fountain. Now, Leland, what did you say was stolen from your shop?"

Saccharo blinked slowly. "Uh, candyfloss."

"How much? That can't have been that big of a loss."

"They stole forty pounds of it."

"Whoa. Burglar with a sweet tooth, huh?"

"And twelve pounds of taffy."

J blinked. "Any money?"

"They left the safe. Didn't look like it was broken into."

"Okay, so someone broke into your store and stole a shitload of candy, but left all the money?"

"That's the long and short of it."

"Okay, you just sit over here, and... Ridcully, was it? You just sit down right over here and take yourself a little nap. Alright? When you wake up everything's gonna be taken care of, and... you never met me before in your life." As the wizard settled in, J crept away, wiping his brow.

"Now that was either the most clever or most stupid thing I've ever seen you do," said L from the doorway.

"Yeah, well, nobody got killed, and everybody's happy, right?"

L snorted. "So how we gonna explain the craters in the wall?"

J looked at the crater, then at Ridcully, who was slumbering peacefully, his staff leaning against one arm of the chair.

"His staff went off in his sleep. Happens to a lot of guys."

L groaned.

"Hey, think of it this way," said J, "having a Neuralyzer means never having to say you're sorry."

"You could have been killed!"

"That's why I prefer not owing this guy an apology."

Carrot trotted into the main office, looked wide-eyed at the blast craters in the walls, then at the slumbering Ridcully, then at the agents.

"His staff went off in his sleep," L said promptly.

"I've never known that to happen to a wizard before," said Carrot.

"Yeah, well," said J, "When you get to be his age, things don't always work right. Happens to a lot of guys."

"I just thought I'd let you know that I'm going to see about that trespasser near the University. There's breakfast on the sideboard in the kitchen."

"Don't you think that a woman who would take a bath in public would be less than intimidated by one Watchman?" asked J.

"I'm taking Nobby with me. You've met him, haven't you?"

"Yes, unfortunately," said L weakly.

"Listen, Carrot," said J, "since you're gonna be busy getting Lady Godiva out of the fountain, L and I will take care of this other guy who came in while you were busy."

"Thank you," said Carrot, genuinely, "What happened to him?"

"Breaking and Entering. We'll take care of it, don't worry."

Carrot's forehead wrinkled. "I don't know..."

"Listen. Big guy. You got enough to keep you busy this morning. Trust me on this. We just wanna help out the Watch while we're here."

"Just remember to write up a report when you get back. Commander Vimes is very particular about things like that."

"No problem. You be careful, though."

"Thank you." He looked over his shoulder. "Nobby, are you coming?"

Nobby strolled into the front office, accompanied by a cloud of aftershave that promptly endeavored to violently attack everyone in the front office.

Carrot coughed and wiped the tears from his eyes. "Is all that really necessary?" he asked.

"You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar," Nobby explained, grinning.

"I think that's what he means," said J, covering his nose with his sleeve, "Damn, what did you do, marinate overnight in that shit?"

"The bottle said it was a pleasant masculine scent," Nobby said indignantly.

"That doesn't mean you use the WHOLE BOTTLE to get the pleasant masculine scent!"

"You just have no sense of taste," said Nobby, as he sidled out the door. Carrot shrugged helplessly and followed him.

"I also have no sense of smell, thanks to him," said L, wiping her eyes.

*****

Peck-peck-peck-peck.

Vimes glanced over his shoulder at the window. He was grateful for the break in talking to the Selachiis, who as usual didn't see the point in Vimes, now a Duke and a knight, still staying with the Watch after attempting to retire three times.

"What is it, dear?" asked Lady Sybil, Vimes' wife, "You seem a bit distracted today."

Peck-peck-peck-peck.

There was a pigeon at the window, mostly obscured by the sheer curtains save for a pigeon-shaped silhouette.

"Excuse me," said Vimes, "Duty calls."

Lady Ramkin sighed. "Now Samuel, don't you think it's a bit rude to leave in the middle of brunch like this?"

"Apparently somebody thinks this is important enough to send a pigeon." He opened the window, allowing the pigeon to hop onto his hand while he took the tiny scroll-tube from its leg. He unrolled the note and read it:

Comander Vimes,

Mr. Ridkuly wants the watch, to see about a nakid woman on the grounds, of the Unve Unev of UU. He wanted, you to come but I said that you were busy, and he said a lot of things, that I won't repete here. Cpl Nobbs and I ar going to remove the trespaser, and Jay and Elle are takig care of, a burglary at Mr. Sakaros shop, while we are away.

Yrs Truly

Captain Carrot Ironfoundersson, A-M City Watch

Vimes read the note three times, then said a word that caused Lady Selachii to shriek, Lord Selachii to go very red in the face, and Lady Sybil to shout, "Sam!" He ignored all of this and sprinted out the door, leaving the note to zigzag its way to the floor.

*****

End Chapter 4.


	6. Chapter 5

"Think it was her?" asked L as they looked at the decimated inventory of Saccharo's candy shop.

"No doubt about it," said J, "I don't know of any human being who could possibly eat that much sugar without getting sick."

"She's been doing a good job at avoiding attention. How many forms you think she's taken on since she got here?"

"Hard to say." He took a sample of taffy from a piece that still had teeth-marks in it, tucking the piece into a tester. After a few seconds of hissing and beeping, a purple light came on in one side of the tester.

"She wasn't done when she split," he said, "She still has low sugar in her plasma."

"Somebody startled her while she was eating," said L.

"The shopkeeper coming downstairs to open up?" asked J.

"Most likely. She certainly left in a hurry Usually she wouldn't leave evidence like that."

"Okay, so where did she go after she bolted?"

*****

She wasn't familiar with the concept of High Mana Zones or even of magical waste dumps. What she knew for certain was that something about this place was giving her energy beyond what she ordinarily got from eating raw sugar. Octarine sparks licked at her fingertips and the ends of her hair as the incongruous fountain spouted crystal water from the mouth of a vomiting fish made of white marble and rinsed away the tension in her muscles.

Wait.

Somebody was coming... no, two somebodys. She ducked down in the water and analyzed the two minds she found.

Okay, there's this one - ew... I think I'll stay away from that one for now. What's in the other one? Hmm. Dutiful, honest, loyal, law-abiding... and what's this? Oh my... this will do nicely...

Carrot and Nobby and Nobby's aftershave approached the fountain cautiously as the bather stood up, shaking water from her long, ash-blonde hair.

"Miss?" said Carrot, "I'm afraid you can't bathe here. It isn't really safe."

She turned around to face them, and both Watchmen stopped cold, stunned by who they saw. Finally, Carrot was able to force enough air past his paralyzed vocal cords to croak a single word:

"Angua?"

Then she smiled, showing entirely too many of entirely the wrong sort of teeth.

*****

"Hey, Vimes, that's a good look for you," said J as he and L were ushered into Vimes' office.

"Shut up," Vimes snapped.

"Is that real silk? I didn't think Watchmen ever wore silk."

"Shut up."

"And the big floppy hat with the feathers in it--"

"We are not here to discuss fashion trends!" Vimes snarled, overriding J, "We are here to discuss you interfering with Watch business! Now sit the hell down!"

"Sitting the hell down, sir."

"Captain Carrot was already occupied with another case, sir," said L, "We were under the impression that we were helping out."

Vimes took off the wide-brimmed hat with feathers in it and slapped it onto the desk. J idly wondered what the hat had ever done to Vimes. Besides making him look like a moron.

*****

She took advantage of their shock by leaping from the fountain and sprinting towards Sator Square. After a few moments, Carrot shook himself and gave chase. Then he returned and shook Nobby out of his trance, and together they chased her through the square. She upset wares carts behind her, trying to slow them down, but Carrot vaulted over them like he was running in a hurdles race. Nobby, however, wore various miscellaneous odds and ends from each cart, tripping and stumbling from a scarf that had wound its ends traitorously around his skinny legs; his aftershave trailed several steps behind, gleefully attacking the carts' owners as it passed.

*****

"I want you two to stop meddling in Watch business," said Vimes firmly, "This is my bloody city, my bloody jurisdiction, and therefore my bloody case! And you bloody well better stay out of my bloody way from now on and let my men take care of it."

"With all due respect, sir," said J, "You are the most bloody-minded individual I've met in my entire career."

"You must want to be punched very badly," growled Vimes.

"Not especially, but thanks for offering."

*****

Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler, who because of a certain instinct for potential customers was wandering near the chase with his tray laden with sausages inna bun for the diner on the go, pulled up short as a woman sprinted past him, naked as the day she was born.

"Now there's something you don't see every day," he said to himself as he continued on. He almost heard the running footsteps too late and sidestepped the pursuing Watchmen just enough that their passage left him pirouetting on one heel. He ended up facing in more or less the same direction that he originally had been, and after a few moments to allow the world to stop spinning, he continued on his way, never knowing how narrowly he had escaped the notice of an insidious cloud of aftershave.

*****

"We believe that the safest course of action," said L, "Would be for us to handle the actual capture of this fugitive. Your men simply aren't prepared for a case like this."

Vimes went crimson. "Then why the devil did you even ask the Watch to help you?!"

"We thought you should at least know that she's running loose in your city," said L, "You know the city better than us, and the information we get from the Watch will help us to narrow down our search."

"What sort of information?" demanded Vimes.

"Maps of the city, for example. Knowing where there are potential hiding spots within a certain radius of where we lost her allows us to limit the number of man-hours spent searching."

*****

She dove into the relative safety of an alleyway, followed closely by Carrot, then Nobby, and finally Nobby's aftershave. The echoes of their sandals ricocheted back and forth between the walls, and stopped. A long pause sidled into place.

A few seconds later, there was a loud screech like an mortally offended falcon, followed by the sound of the Watchmen screaming. There came sounds of scuffling, and the sandal echoes pingponged their way out of the alley as Carrot sprinted out of the alley, carrying Nobby by the back of his uniform collar like he was a kitten. Nobby's aftershave was nowhere to be smelled.

*****

"So what you're saying is, right now you have no idea where in the hell she currently is," said Vimes.

"We know where she was last night, though," J offered helpfully, "and where she might have gone afterwards. But, no, we have no idea where she is right now."

CRASH!

"What the devil was THAT?" Vimes demanded.

"Search me," said J as they all got up to investigate. What they found in the front office were Carrot and Nobby, and a broken front door. Both watchmen looked as though they had tried boxing with Edward Scissorhands. Their uniforms were torn, their breastplates were scarred with scratches, and everything not covered by their uniforms were covered in bleeding cuts. Carrot had a black eye. Nevertheless, he saluted as Vimes and the agents walked in.

"Something tells me it just hit the fan," L muttered to J.

J nodded. "Or the fan hit them."

"We investigated the disturbance near the University as indicated by the pigeon we sent," Carrot reported dutifully.

"So, who was it?"

"It appeared to be Constable Angua, sir."

"WHAT?" said Angua and Vimes together.

"I was here the entire time!" Angua continued.

"The face was yours," said Nobby, "I'm not sure about the rest of the deta..." he caught Angua's glare and fell silent.

"Upon our discovery of the subject in the fountain she jumped out and ran across Sator Square, sir," Carrot continued, "still in the same state of, um, dress."

"She ran into a crowded square NAKED?" Vimes asked incredulously.

"As a jaybird, sir," said Nobby. He was starting to get a bit wobbly on his feet.

"She fled into an alley on the opposite side of Sator Square," said Carrot, "and we continued to pursue her up until the moment she turned into a scaly monster and attacked us."

"A... what?" Vimes managed to say.

"A scaly monster, sir. Whereupon she attacked us with her claws and long pointy fangs. We commenced a creative charge and ran back to the Watchhouse."

"Say, Carrot?" said Nobby.

"Yes, Nobby?"

"You know the stuff that keeps you running when something bad is chasing you?"

"Adrenaline?"

"Yeah. Real bugger when it wears off." Nobby rocked back on his heels and fell over.

"Alright," said Vimes, "Somebody take Carrot and Nobby to Igor to get stitched up. And you two..." he pointed to J and L, "Have got some explaining to do." He half-led, half-dragged the agents back to his office by their ties.

*****

End Chapter 5.


	7. Chapter 6

"Pssst."

Dibbler paused and looked around. Seeing no one, he shrugged and started to walk on.

"Hey, you."

"Me?" he asked uncertainly, looking more or less straight ahead. His fingers drummed an agitated tattoo on the sides of his sausage tray.

"How many other yous do you see?"

Dibbler remained silent.

"I want you to listen very carefully, and do exactly as I say."

"Alright," said Dibbler, by now starting to wonder if he should have paid his premiums to the Thieves' Guild on time.

"Take two steps backwards. Slowly."

He took two very cautious steps backwards and waited. He glanced into the shadows of the alley next to which he was now standing. His imagination populated it with any number of hoods and assassins. Something heavy landed on his shoulder, digging sharp claws in for stability, and he yelped with fright and tried to bat it off.

It was a large red squirrel. It looked hard at him, its ears swiveling back.

"Stop swatting at me, you idiot," it said. Dibbler had seen his share of strange things in his life, but a talking squirrel simply Did Not Happen in his experience. He passed out.

The squirrel sighed, grabbed Dibbler by the strap of his apron, and dragged him into the alley, openly defying the laws of physics in any world except this one.

*****

"I believe," said Vimes slowly, "that you have withheld crucial information from me regarding your fugitive."

"Like what, sir?" asked J.

"Like the fact that she has claws sharp enough to score metal."

"Oh, she doesn't have those all the time."

Vimes glared at him.

"Only when she's cornered," L clarified.

"Well," said Vimes, "I'm certain that will make my officers feel so much better about nearly getting eviscerated."

"Of course, we offered to handle the actual capture, but you said it was 'your bloody city, and your bloody jurisdiction, and your bloody men can handle the bloody case,'" J pointed out, affecting a remarkable impression of Vimes.

"I didn't know we were chasing a monster!" Vimes snapped, "Because _some_ people thought it best that we not know!"

"It was on a need to know basis," said L.

"Right now I need to know, so that I can be sure Carrot and Nobby aren't going to die from blood poisoning or some exotic venom. As of this minute, there are going to be no more secrets about this woman, no confidential information. I want to know EVERYTHING about her!" He sat down and took a sip from a mug of luke-warm coffee on his desk.

"Alright," said J, "She's actually a shapeshifting alien being from the planet Zrrt'la who wants to mate with the ideal human male." He shut his eyes as the spray of coffee hit him in the face.

*****

Dibbler hefted the sausage-tray into place and adjusted the knit cap on his head. He lifted one of the lids on the tray, and steam poured out in a whitish cloud.

"Sausages," he said absently, "I think." He took one out, sniffed at it, and bit into the end of it. He made a face and spit the mouthful out. It landed near the unconscious sausage-seller, mostly hidden under a pile of rubbish except for one hand. "Not sausages," said the imposter, tossing the rest of the sausage over his shoulder. He sauntered out of the alleyway, whistling tunelessly.

*****

"We don't blame you if you don't believe us," said L once Vimes had stopped coughing, "It's quite a lot to swallow at once."

"No worse than one of Dibbler's sausages," Vimes croaked, "So what does she consider the ideal human male? Most women might say Carrot fits that description, but she obviously rejected him."

"She tends to gravitate towards individuals with high social status and a lot of power," said J, wiping the coffee off his face with a handkerchief, "That's why she was trying to get to that official we mentioned to you."

"So, why is she a fugitive from justice?" Vimes asked, "I mean, most officials have mistresses and the like."

"For one, she assaults people and copies them to further her goals," said L, "We were quite serious when we said she was a master of disguise."

"Copies them...?"

"You know how a chameleon changes color to blend in?" said J. Vimes nodded. "Imagine a creature that could actually change her shape."

"So... what are the limits of her ability?"

"Well, she can't copy anything nonliving, or anything much larger than a human. But we've seen her people copy animals as small as rats, though it takes more energy and concentration to copy the smaller forms."

"When she's in anything but her natural form," said L, "she has a metabolism like a hummingbird. The smaller the form, or the more times she changes forms, the more she has to eat during the day."

"The burglary at the candy store," said Vimes.

J nodded. "She could have eaten even more than that, if Leland hadn't surprised her."

"Damn," said Vimes, "so she was still hungry - she needed more energy."

"Is there anything special about the area where Captain Carrot and Corporal Nobbs found her?"

"It's a dump site for magical waste from Unseen University. Nobody in their right mind would go there if they liked their current shape."

"On the other hand," said L, "She can control what shape she is anyway..."

"The Unreal Estate is considered a High Energy Magic... Zone." A spark of realization flashed in Vimes' eyes.

"High Energy," said J, "She just took a bath in the middle of a nuclear reactor."

"A what?" asked Vimes.

"Roughly the same thing."

"Ah. So what does this mean to us?"

"Well, with any luck, she'll glow in the dark," said L.

"Not that we'd be able to see," said Vimes, "That would be more the wizards' department."

"Okay, so we just call one of them in to help us," said J.

"The wizards take care of magical matters," said Vimes, "The Watch takes care of law and order."

"And here they were griping about a nekkid woman outside the University, and the Watch helped them. I'd say they owed you one."

"You two can take care of explaining that to the wizards," said Vimes.

"Right," said L, glancing at J.

J ignored her. "And we have to figure out a way to determine where she's headed. Is there, like, a king around here?"

"No," Vimes said immediately.

"Okay, so who runs the city?"

"Mainly each Guild manages its own business, and each one has a guild leader."

"How many guilds are there?" asked L.

"We've lost count."

"Great. What about lords, barons, governors, that sort of thing?" She paused for a thoughtful moment. "Who do the guild leaders answer to?"

"There's the Patrician," said Vimes, "But nobody's ever succeeded in assassinating him... not for lack of trying. What makes you think she'll be able to even get into the Palace?"

"She copied Constable Angua well enough to fool the Captain."

Vimes looked like he was starting to get a headache. He was, after all, supposed to protect the Patrician from danger. On the other hand, he was having trouble reconciling the possibility that a creature whose mission was... not assassination would pose any danger. He kept hoping that this was all a crazy dream and that he would wake up any moment.

"Okay," said Vimes, "Worst case scenario. She gets into the Palace and gets to the Patrician."

"He probably won't survive the encounter," said J.

"But if all she wants to do is..."

"It's difficult to explain. She probably won't mean to kill him."

"Like she didn't mean to kill Carrot and Nobby?"

L coughed. "If she had wanted them dead, there wouldn't have been enough of them left to bury."

Vimes looked sideways at her. "So what you two wish me to believe," he said slowly, "is basically that there is a nymphomaniac black widow who doesn't really mean to kill her partners but who, nonetheless, will almost certainly would be fatal to anyone with whom she..."

"Basically, yes," said J, straightfaced.

Vimes sighed. "I probably won't be wanting for volunteers to help defend the Patrician..." he muttered. Aloud, he added, "I'll have somebody take you to the University to see about redeeming this favor. In the meantime, I'll see about increasing the number of guards at the Palace."

*****

Dibbler strolled along the streets near the Palace. He skimmed past the marble stairs leading up to the main doors, keeping a bright silver eye on the impressive building.

"Get your hot... miscellaneous foodstuffs!" he called, "Sausages inna bun! Rat for the hungry mountain warrior on the go! Fresh rocks for silicate organisms with an appetite for adventure!" He looked around, then sidled around the corner of the Palace, shedding the food tray but picking up one of the fresh rocks as he approached the servants' entrance.

*****

End Chapter 6.


	8. Chapter 7

BONG GONG BINGA BONG GONG DONG...

"Where'd they get that doorbell, a cathedral?" asked J as he let go of the bell rope.

"It was meant to be an alarm clock," said a voice nearby, which upon investigation proved to belong to a dwarven gardener.

"For what? The entire place?" asked L.

"No. One person. It's a Johnson," he added, as though that explained everything, and continued on his way as a wizard whose broad-mindedness had apparently become psychosomatic opened the door.

"May I help you?" asked the Dean.

"Yeah," said J, "I'm Lord Mordred and this is Lady Vivian, and we're here to see about a favor that the wizards owe the Watch."

"I don't know of any such favor," protested the Dean.

"Oh, so Ridcully never told you about the little matter of the trespasser in the Unreal Estate? And here he told us that all the senior wizards wanted her out."

"Excuse me?"

"You know, the nude woman in the fountain? As I understand, she got a bit tetchy about being removed and nearly emasculated two Watchmen."

The Dean coughed uncomfortably. "Where did you say you were from?"

"We represent some very powerful interests in this city," said L.

"You're LAWYERS?"

"Nah," said J, "We're just a couple of very rich nobles who would like to donate a small shitload of cash to a worthy academic institution if said academic institution would be so kind as to do this favor for the Watch. Vimes knows us. You can ask him if you like."

The Dean appeared to consider this. "Follow me," he said finally, and led them to a well-furnished sitting room with the better part of a bear sprawled across the floor in front of a fireplace, and two large wingbacked chairs positioned to take maximum benefit from any fire that would be lit within said fireplace. Just to show the mysterious nobles who was who around the University, the Dean lit a fire in the hearth with a gesture. "Wait here," he added, and walked away. J swore later that he heard both chairs sigh with relief that the huge man did not sit in either of them.

"Lord Mordred?" L asked, laughing.

"It sounded fitting," said J, "Besides, you don't seem to be complaining about Lady Vivian." He sat in one of the chairs, studying the trophies mounted over the fireplace.

A half hour later, Ridcully strode into the sitting room, dressed to kill, or at least to maim, in what were likely the most impressive robes he owned. He had his staff with him, J noticed with apprehension.

"Good evening," Ridcully boomed, "It's so rare that we get monetary contributions to the University. So, tell me... what is this favor that we supposedly owe the Watch?"

"It regards a fugitive that they recently chased from the Unreal Estate near the University," said L.

"What about her?"

"She's still on the loose. However, she may have picked up some magical radiation from the area that would in theory make her highly visible to wizards."

"She glows in the octarine?" asked Ridcully.

"Yes, sir," said J, "And since it is imperative that she be apprehended before she decides to go streaking again within view of the impressionable students of this institution, we are humbly asking for the aid of one of your wizards."

"This woman," said Ridcully, "Is she dangerous?"

"She attempted to rather personally inconvenience two of the Watch."

"How-- oh."

"So if you could possibly spare one of your staff to help locate her, Lady Vivian and myself will personally arrange a sizable donation to the University."

Ridcully grinned. "I know just the wizard," he said brightly, "His danger sense is very keen."

*****

At that moment in the University library, Rincewind had a passing feeling of dread. He quietly shelved a drowsy grimoire, climbed down the ladder and headed for the library door. His hand was just about to turn the doorknob when it wrenched around under his hand and was torn from his grasp as the door was opened from the other side.

"Ah, Rincewind!" Ridcully said cheerfully, clapping Rincewind on the shoulder hard enough to stagger the wizzard and catching him in a viselike grip, "Just the man I wanted to see."

"I'm really very busy right now--"

"You see, the Watch needs your help."

"I have a lot of grimoires to shelve, see, and--"

"It involves finding some woman before she decides to run around in the nude again."

Rincewind, in the middle of formulating his next response, swallowed the wrong way and began choking.

"Apparently she caught some radiation from the Unreal Estate while she was having a bath and now she glows in the octarine."

"Nng..."

"And as soon as I heard that the Watch was looking for her, I said to myself, 'Self, now there's a case that old Rincewind would be perfect for.'"

"Yarrg..."

"And so I was kind enough to volunteer your services as... as... volunteer your services to the Watch in finding this woman. You don't object, do you?"

Rincewind was hyperventilating.

"Good man! Now, if you'll just come with me, I'll introduce you to a couple of nobles who are helping out in the case."

Finally, Rincewind was able to squeak out a fitting response. He said, "Ergnfl."

*****

"Well, he seemed nice enough," said L, "At least, when he isn't trying to take your head off at thirty paces."

"And as long as this donation remains forthcoming," said J.

"Well, as long as the help he gives us is competent," said L.

"He may be an asshole, but I don't think he's a con man," said J.

The door opened, and both agents looked at Ridcully and the man who was apparently their help. He was tall and thin, like he'd been pulled through a keyhole, with a scraggly beard and the sort of facial expression that Dante must have worn when he was done touring Hell. He was clad in red robes, and a pointy hat with a floppy brim which plainly identified him as a WIZZARD.

L looked over the top of her Ray Bans at Rincewind. "This is our help?" she asked.

Rincewind looked at the agents, then at Ridcully. "These are the nobles?" he asked, "They look more like assassins than nobles."

"And you look more like a librarian than a wizard."

"He doesn't look that much like an orangutan," said Ridcully. Both agents looked blank.

"So," said J, finally, "What's your name?"

"Rincewind."

"And you're a wizard, right?"

"That's what it says on my hat," said Rincewind, a bit defensively.

"Actually," J hesitated, "It says WIZZARD on your hat."

"I hope we don't have to rely on his spelling abilities to catch her," said L.

"Look," said Rincewind hotly, "Do you want my help or not?"

"All right, all right," said J, putting his hands up in a placating gesture, "Can you see into the nectarine?"

"Octarine," said Rincewind, "And of course I can. All wizards can."

"Right," said J, "Then you should be able to see our fugitive no matter what if she radiates magic?"

"I ought to."

"Good. You're hired. Mr. Ridcully, if this goes well, you will have your wizzard back within 24 hours." To himself, J added, And if this goes badly, Ridcully might be short a librarian.

*****

"You're late!" said the head housekeeper at the Palace as one of the maids attempted to slip past her watchful eye.

"Sorry, m'm. Won't happen again."

"I should hope not. Did you know there's some sort of weird pervert mugger on the loose around here?"

"M'm?"

"Knocks people out and steals their clothes."

"Oh my."

"Already attacked one of the Seamstresses. Tsk. Didn't even leave a receipt."

"I'll be careful, m'm."

"You better. Right now, the west passage wants sweeping. Get to it."

"Yes'm." The girl scurried away, snatching up a broom as she passed.

*****

"All right," said Vimes to the agents and Rincewind, "I've stationed a number of guards throughout the Palace, concentrating in the bedroom as per, uh, Mordred's suggestion." He gave J a Look. "You three, check all the corridors for anything suspicious, like people glowing in the octarine." J raised his hand. "Yes?"

"Where's the Patrician now?" J asked.

"Lord Vetinari is currently at a formal gathering with several of the guild leaders."

"When should we expect him back from this shindig?"

Vimes winced at the word "shindig". "Later this evening. Please, TRY to be discreet."

"Hey, discretion's my middle name," said J, "Mordred Discretion Pendragon."

Vimes closed his eyes for a few moments, as though asking for inner strength. He supposed it could have been worse. In theory, anyway. He turned on his heel and climbed the marble stairs to the Palace. Rincewind started to follow, but L laid a hand on his shoulder.

"She might be impersonating someone in the Palace," she said, "If she is, there might be someone in one of the alleys."

"And we want to know this why?" asked Rincewind.

"It's so Viv and I know who we're looking for," said J, We wouldn't know her from Eve otherwise."

"Who's Eve?"

"Exactly." J headed around the side of the Palace.

Rincewind looked at L, who shrugged. "He was a cop in a previous life," she said.

"Yo!" J called from the alley, "C'mere and see this! I think we just found our lucky contestant!" L trotted away towards the alley, then sprinted back, caught Rincewind by the arm as he attempted to bolt, and dragged him after her. In the alley was a young woman, crouched in the alley in her unmentionables, crying softly.

"Well," said L, "Now we know what she looked like when she went into the Palace."

"This was supposed to be my first day on the job," the girl sobbed.

"What job is that?" asked L.

"A maid."

"One thing's for sure," said J, "she sure knows her camouflage. Vimes and all them won't be looking at the hired help, I'd bet."

"I'll take her inside and alert the head housekeeper," said L.

"Discreetly," said J.

"Discreetly." L helped the girl through the servants' entrance, followed by J and Rincewind.

*****

End Part 7.


	9. Chapter 8

She swept her way along the corridor, meandering her way towards the heart of the Palace. She became aware that she was being followed. She turned and saw Nobby grinning at her.

"So," he said, "What time you get off work?" He waggled his eyebrows at her.

She swung the broom in a whirlwind of straw bristles and caught Nobby across the face with a resounding THWAP that spun him completely around, then reversed the broom and jabbed the butt end of the handle into his stomach. As he doubled over, she smacked him overhand in the back of the head with the bristles, flattening him. She dropped the broom next to him and fled down the corridor.

Nobby coughed. "Spirited girl..."

*****

Meanwhile, in another part of the Palace...

"So, Rincey--"

"Rincey?"

"Go ahead and turn on your wizard vision or whatever," said J.

"It doesn't work like that," said Rincewind.

"So, you have to meditate or something? Concentrate? Get in an altered state of awareness?"

"No, it's on all the time."

"Oh." J sounded crestfallen.

Rincewind rounded a corner and abruptly started screaming in terror. He backed away until he had his back against the wall.

"What?? What??" asked J in bewilderment, "What do you see?" He peered down the corridor and completely failed to see the robed skeleton standing in the corridor.

IT'S ALWAYS ABOUT YOU, ISN'T IT? Death snapped in annoyance, for Rincewind's ears only, I SUPPOSE IT NEVER OCCURRED TO YOU THAT I MIGHT JUST BE PASSING THROUGH? He strode through a wall, leaving Rincewind hyperventilating and in a cold sweat. The wizzard looked to J as though he was trying to burrow through the wall with his shoulderblades.

"So, you have these anxiety attacks a lot?" J asked, after a reflective minute.

"Nnh..." Rincewind squeaked.

*****

"Anyone seen Nobby lately?" asked Vimes.

"He said he was just stepping out to take a leak, sir," Colon volunteered.

"How long ago was that?"

"About twenty minutes."

"Gods, I hope he doesn't try to nick anything... Sergeant, you go chase him down and bring him back here. I don't want him to happen to anyone."

"Right." Colon went out into the corridor.

*****

Nobby staggered down the corridor, still dazed from getting beat up with a broom. He nearly tripped on a pile of clothing in the middle of the hallway.

"Hullo," he said as he picked up the maid's uniform, "Obviously she's playing a little game of Come Get Me." He sniggered, dropped the dress, and strolled on down the corridor.

*****

"Just calm down," J said to Rincewind, "Take some deep breaths. I'm sure that whatever you saw is gone now. Okay?" For Rincewind, calming down was something that happened to other people, but he did the best he could. "Better?"

"Relatively speaking."

"Good. Now I want you to look down that way and tell me if you see anything strange."

Rincewind looked. "You mean besides Corporal Nobbs?"

"Yes, I mean besides Corporal Nobbs."

"Nope. Sorry."

"It's okay. We'll just keep looking."

They passed a side corridor, and behind them a white longhaired cat best suited for gourmet cat food commercials padded out of it, glanced at them, and trotted in the opposite direction. Further along the corridor in the direction Nobby had come from, they found the maid's uniform on the floor.  
"Shit," J muttered under his breath.

"I'm guessing this is a bad sign," said Rincewind.

"Well, this means one of two things. One, that there is a nude woman running around the Palace."

"And the other?"

"Start looking for an animal with silver eyes."

"What??" Rincewind turned to stare at J. "Are you telling me we're chasing a shapeshifter?"

"Not in so many words."

"A werewolf??"

"No--"

But Rincewind was gone.

"Dammit," J muttered.

*****

L crept along the corridor, readying a blackjack that the head housekeeper was kind enough to loan her. Actually, she had insisted, once she knew that a perverted mugger was in HER domain and had attacked one of HER girls. L couldn't have refused without being rude. Discretion was the key.  
"Scuse me..."

She whirled around in alarm and nearly hit Colon in the face with the blackjack. He recoiled with a yelp.

"Sorry," said L. catching her breath, "I thought you were someone else. Sergeant Colon, was it?"

He nodded, mopping his brow. "I was wondering if you'd seen Nobby anywhere."

L shook her head. "Not here. Why?"

"D*mn," Colon muttered, remembering himself enough to swear in asterisks in the presence of a lady, a technique he'd learned from Carrot. Especially since the lady in question had a blackjack.

"How the hell did you do that?" L asked.

"Do what?"

"Never mind. Have you seen J or Rincewind anywhere?"

"Can't say that I have. Though I think I heard someone screaming somewhere."

L looked at him. "Where at?"

"Hard to say. This is a big place, after all, with lotsa echoes and stuff."

L chewed her lip. "I hope they're okay."

*****

Rincewind leaned against a door, gasping for breath. Although he'd had years of running away to perfect the technique and to get sufficiently in shape to avoid cardiac arrest during long-distance sprints, the adrenaline hangover was not kind to anyone. A doppelganger. They were chasing a bloody doppelganger. Or something. Rincewind didn't really stay long enough to get any details - he seldom did - but he was certain that whenever that thing decided to show up, he had best not be there. The only downside he saw to his present situation was that he was now lost.

Then the cat showed up.

It was a pristine white longhaired cat, mincing along in the feline ballet familar to cat people everywhere. It was the sort of cat that wore pearls or jewelled collars, and ate out of crystal food dishes, and had names like Princess or Lady Marmalade. It was exactly the sort of cat that ruthless men kept, men who were planning on taking over the Disc by seizing it by its financial figgin. Rincewind wasn't at all sure how ruthless Lord Vetinari was, except from stories he'd heard about mimes that mysteriously vanished and were never seen again.

The most unsettling thing about the cat was that it glowed in the octarine. Then it turned to look at him and the glow became the second most unsettling thing as he saw the intelligent gleam in its silver eyes. Both of these were quickly overtaken as the cat started to change into something else.

*****

"Yo, Rincewind!" J called out, trotting along the route that he had last seen the wizzard take. He rounded a bend and crashed into Sgt Colon coming the other way. He instinctively reached for the Cricket at the same time the Watchman reached for his truncheon.

"Rincewind?" J asked.

"Nobby?" Colon asked, at the same time.

"That way," J pointed back down the corridor.

"Haven't seen him," said Colon, "I saw L back that way though. She's trying to find you and Rincewind."

"He ran off shortly after we found a maid's uniform back there," said J. "I think our fugitive's trying to give us the slip."

"I don't see how, unless she has another disguise handy. I mean, running around bareassed isn't exactly hiding."

"I expect she had another disguise," said J, vaguely, before jogging away down the corridor.

*****

Well, thought Rincewind as he concentrated on her face, she's still glowing in the octarine, so if I really wanted to I could pretend that there was an entirely alien creature standing in front of me - a nymph, maybe - instead of a stunningly beautiful and, yes, nude woman. The eyes. Concentrate on the eyes. Nothing human has silver eyes. There was something hauntingly, horribly wrong with her eyes. It was like she was trying to bore into his skull through the force of her gaze alone.

"So," she said in a voice that made his libido want to beat its chest and swing on vines, "You're a wizard."

The eyes. Concentrate on the eyes. A theory formed, too late, that maybe it wasn't such a good idea to look into her eyes, since there were supposed to be creatures on the Disc whose gaze could hypnotize prey. He suddenly wished that last word hadn't come to mind.

"How could you tell?" he asked, aware that his voice was about an octave higher than normal.

"Oh, the hat," she said, sliding a finger along the wide brim of his hat while he stood very still and tried not to touch anything that would compromise any magical ability he had.* "The robes, too." She circled him like a shark, looking him up and down. As she came back around in front of him, she slid a hand along his beard. "I'm sure you're very studious."

He said nothing. He could feel beads of sweat forming on his brow.

"So, where's your staff?"

He looked at her wide-eyed, wondering if she was really thinking what he thought she was thinking.

"I heard every wizard had a great big staff..."

"Nnh..."

"And wizards can do amazing things with their staffs."

He whimpered. Sweat was pouring down his face, but he found he couldn't move. It was like his feet were nailed to the floor.

By coincidence, J chose that moment to come within shouting range of Rincewind. Both wizzard and shapeshifter glanced in that direction, and the spell was broken. When she looked back, all that remained of Rincewind was the echo of his boots. She shrugged and went through the door that he had, until then, been blocking.

----

*The risk of magical impotence was, of course, the reason given by senior wizards not to have relations with women. After extensive scientific experimentation, many student wizards had concluded that this was bunk.]

*****

L rounded a corner and nearly tripped over Nobby. She yelped in surprise.

"Evenin', L," he said, "You seen a maid around here? Not wearing much?"

"No," L said, confused, "Why?"

"No reason, really. Just thought there might be one wandering around somewhere."

"What happened to you? Looks like you were attacked with a broom or something."

"Jus' a little loveplay."

L's stomach turned at the thought of what sort of loveplay involved getting attacked by a broom. And, well, Nobby in general. "Sgt Colon's looking for you," she said after banishing that particular mental picture, "I think you better report in or something."

"Eh. Fred knows me."

"I think that's the problem. Listen, have you seen either J or Rincewind?"

"I saw 'em both a few minutes ago. Headed that way."

"Okay, thanks." She headed in the direction he'd indicated. Nobby wandered off in search of a randomly encountered slightly clad domestic.

*****

J made his way cautiously along the corridor, investigating a sound he'd heard as he approached a T-junction. He paused just in the shelter of the corner, then jumped out into the junction.

Rincewind, who had been approaching the junction from the side corridor, screamed. J, startled by the scream, also screamed. L heard them screaming and ran to help. She collided with both of them. Rincewind screamed. J screamed. L screamed. Finally, Rincewind passed out.

There was a long pause of mutual embarassment.

"Well," said J, clearing his throat, "Now that we know our secret danger signal works, has anyone found anything?"

*****

End Chapter 8.


	10. Chapter 9

She opened the door a crack and peered out. Upon verifying that the coast was indeed clear, she stepped out into the hallway, clad in a garment improvised from a set of sheer curtains and a length of gold braid. A few strategically placed opaque florettes protected her delicate bits, but the overall effect was hardly any less eye-popping. She padded along the hallway, guided inadvertantly by the minds of the many maids throughout the palace. Her path was more direct now.

*****

"Rincewind," said J as he crouched over the fallen wizzard, "Let's get one thing straight. We still need your help, and you aren't doing much good passed out. Now, understand that I really really don't want to have to give you mouth-to-mouth--" Rincewind's eyes shot open. "Welcome back." He pulled Rincewind to his feet, quite against his will.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," said L, "What happened?"

"You mean before or after a cat turned into a woman and tried to seduce me?" Rincewind growled.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," said J, which earned him a dirty look from L.

"It's been my experience that women who glow in the octarine are generally not worth messing with," said Rincewind.

"How many women have you seen that glow in the octarine?" asked J.

"Just the one. That's plenty."

"I just hope she didn't kiss him," L said to J, "If she did, he'll be more of a hindrance than a help."

"Give me a little credit here!" whined Rincewind, "I know how to conduct myself around a lady."

"Even if she's naked?" asked J.

"I wouldn't really call her a lady, per se," said L.

"All right, all right," said Rincewind, "You have a point about her not being ladylike. But really, wizardry takes emotional and mental discipline, and there's no room in a wizard's life for women."

"Translation," said J, "You can't get laid to save your life."

"HEY!"

"Be nice," L chided.

*****

Nobby sidled down a corridor, investigating a noise he'd heard. It had sounded like someone running in bare feet - not a regular occurance in the Palace, he was almost certain, though there was no accounting for how the Patrician spent his private time. It was best not to speculate on that, however. The overly curious tended to learn a lot about scorpions.

He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and glanced over at a nearby window. He sidestepped over to it and twitched the curtains aside. The movement was the Patrician's coach pulling up.

"Oh, shit," Nobby said under his breath. He took off running, sparks flying from his iron-shod boots. As he skidded around a corner, he crashed into Colon and rebounded off in a clatter of breastplates.

"I've been looking for you all over!" said Colon, "Vimes is--"

"No time!" Nobby said in a panic, "The Patrician!"

"What about him?" Colon asked.

"He's back!" Nobby all but screamed.

"Oh... shit. Um. Any word from the agents?"

"Last I heard, they were still trying to find her."

Colon swore. "We have to stall him."

"Stall who?"

"The Patrician! We have to keep him occupied until we know it's all clear."

"Stall the PATRICIAN?!" Nobby was nearly frantic now. "He LIVES here! How the hell are we supposed to STALL him?"

"Don't worry. I have a Plan."

"Oh, good." Nobby followed Colon as he trotted away along the hallway.

"I just wish I knew what it was," Colon muttered.

*****

"Did you happen to see which way she went?" asked J.

"No," said Rincewind, "She was still kinda standing there when I ran away."

"About where did you encounter her?" asked L.

"Search me. I just ran until I ran out of breath. Both times."

"She might be starting to close in," said J.

"If she is, the best place to wait for her would be at her most likely destination," said L.

"The Patrician's bedroom," said J.

"Great," said Rincewind, "Since you don't need me anymore--"

"You'll be safest if you come with us," said L, "You don't want to meet up with her alone again, do you?"

"Well," said Rincewind drily, "Let me think about that for a minute. Facing down a dangerous shapeshifter alone, versus facing down a dangerous shapeshifter with the help of twenty guards. Gee, that's a tough one." He trailed after them, certain that the excitement was not over.

*****

Lord Vetinari paused in the foyer of the Palace and peered impassively at the two watchmen standing between him and the doorway opposite. Both were standing to rigid attention, their faces locked into terrified rictuses that might have been meant to be reassuring smiles.

"HelloSirDidYouEnjoyThePartyI'mSorryButYouCan'tComeThroughHere!" Nobby squeaked.

The Patrician raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Whyever not?" he asked, content for now to let curiosity overrule annoyance.

"The Palace is being fumigated, sir," said Colon, in a similar terrified falsetto.

"Fumigated? For what?"

"Mimes, sir!" said Nobby, inspired by a feeble spark of inspiration.

The Patrician closed his eyes for slightly longer than a standard blink. "The Palace is being fumigated," he said quietly, "For mimes."

"Yessir!" said both Watchmen.

"After all," added Colon, taking the idea and running with it, "You know how sneaky mimes can be. Running around being all quiet like that. You know they got to be up to something."

"How, I wonder, did they get into the Palace in the first place?" Vetinari asked rhetorically.

"They prob'ly hid in an invisible box or something," said Nobby brightly.

"Or climbed an invisible rope up to a window," Colon volunteered.

"Well," said Vetinari, "I'm certain that if there are any mimes in my personal quarters, they will be handled with due caution." He tried to sidestep around Colon. Colon sidestepped to remain directly in front of the Patrician.

"These are a special sort of mime," said Colon, "Very dangerous."

"And what sort of mimes are these?" asked Vetinari, with calmness in inverse proportion to that of any other civic leader in similar circumstances.

Inspiration hit Nobby again with all the force of a loaf of bread. "Ninja mimes!" he said, "Very dangerous. Not only can't you hear em, but you can't see em, neither."

Vetinari sighed. "So what you're saying is, the Palace is infested with highly dangerous ninja mimes, but I can't see them or hear them."

"Yessir!" chorused the Watchmen.

"Then how do the exterminators know they're there, hmm?"

Nobby and Colon shared a moment of panicked silence.

*****

The door opened. Twenty crossbows were cocked. J yelped.

"Dammit, J," said Vimes as everyone relaxed a fraction.

"Jesus Christ," J gasped, feigning a heart attack, "Vimes, what're you trying to do, kill me?"

"I thought you were supposed to be out looking for her. Where are the others?"

"Right behind me." He stepped further into the room as L and Rincewind arrived and shut the door behind them.

"Well?" asked Vimes, "Did you find her?"

"That's the funny thing, sir," said L, "We didn't. But there was a sighting."

"A... sighting," said Vimes.

J clapped Rincewind on the shoulder. "See, the Glimmer Man here found her, but got spooked by her overwhelming femininity and ran away."

"Listen," said Rincewind acidly, "I was too busy trying not to get killed by a doppelganger to tell her she was under arrest."

"Doppelganger?" asked J, "Who said she was a doppelganger?"

"She's a shapeshifter, yes?" asked Rincewind.

"Well, yeah," said J.

"Werewolf?"

"Not exactly."

Vimes groaned.

"Listen!" Vimes shouted, "I don't have time right now to figure out exactly what the hell she is. I just want her caught and out of here before the Patrician gets back! Is that so much to ask?" This last question was directed towards the ceiling.

At that moment, the latch turned.

J looked up at the ceiling. "Thanks," he said, just in case.

*****

She was distracted; that could be the only explanation. Her time was at hand. Her plans were about to come to fruition. She opened the door, slipped in, and shut the door as quietly as she could. She took a few moments to fix her hair and smooth out her clothing, then turned around.

The tip of a sword hovered inches from her face. She followed the blade with her gaze until she was looking at Vimes. Behind him was a third of the City Watch.

"Hello there," she said.

"Step away from the door, please," said Vimes.

"So, you must be the Commander of the City Watch. How dashing."

"I'm married."

"My condolences."

"Happily."

"You don't sound it."

"Well, having to defend the Patrician from a shapeshifting sex fiend tends to put me in a really rotten mood. Now step! Away! From the door!"

She began sidling away from the door. She heard the creak of weaponry in the ranks.

"Now really," she said sweetly, "Twenty crossbows to apprehend one woman?"

"Not exactly," said Vimes, "Twenty-three crossbows, seven swords, four seige ballistas, thirteen war-axes, and one Blowing-Holes-In-Things doohickey--"

"Noisy Cricket," said J.

"Whatever. Now, ma'am, with all those weapons and a bunch of very nervous Watchmen in this room, I believe that making any sudden moves should be at the bottom of your list of things to do today. I don't know who or what you think you are, but you picked the wrong damn universe to hide in!"

The latch turned. Everybody looked towards the door. It swung open casually, revealing the lean shape of Lord Vetinari. He was flanked by Nobby and

Colon, who both looked so sheepish that it was a wonder they didn't spontaneously sprout wool and bleat.

"Ah, Commander Sir Samuel Vimes," said Vetinari quietly, "This _is_ a surprise. I trust you were not troubled by any invisible ninja mimes on your way here?" He looked over the tableau of frozen respect filling his bedroom. "Perhaps you would be kind enough to explain to me what a third of the Watch, a wizard, two strangers, and a scantily clad woman are doing in my bedroom?"

*****

End Ch 9.


	11. Chapter 10

It was difficult for the uninitiated to tell when Vetinari was publicly annoyed. In fact, the more annoyed he was with someone, the more polite his demeanour towards that person. It was only in a fit of anger that he would use irony or, in extreme cases, sarcasm. This quirk of his personality often led to rather Darwinian comments, most beginning with, "I'm so glad I caught you in a good mood, because..."

J's response, for example, would have implied that Vetinari was the sort who enjoyed surprise parties that featured exotic dancers. Fortunately, Vimes was quicker.

"This woman was going to kill you, sir," he said.

"Indeed?" asked Vetinari, raising an inquisitive eyebrow, "And what, pray, would have been the method of my demise?"

J stepped forward. "Coronary overexertion, sir," he said without thinking.

Silences are, of course, creatures unto themselves, and they can move in many ways to fill a space. Some ripple outward from a central focus, others sidle in, and still others simply drift into place like fog.

The silence that followed J's statement, for example, fell into the room with all the grace and finality of a very large boulder falling on a coyote. It was interrupted only by the shuffling of several pairs of sandals moving away from J.

"That didn't come out right, did it?" J asked finally. Vimes put his hand over his eyes.

*****

"Well, I thought it went well," J said defensively as they left the Palace with the shapeshifter, "He let us go, didn't he?"

"I believe that was so we wouldn't see him laughing," said Vimes sourly, "I can't believe you actually said--"

"I was trying to be as discreet as possible!"

"'She secretes a venom through her lips that acts as an aphrodisiac but if it's paired with strenuous aerobic activity causes a heart attack'? Do you call that discreet?!"

"That is discreet for him," said L.

"At least I said 'strenuous aerobic activity' and not--"

"That's enough!" Vimes shouted, "You have your damned fugitive, now go home!"

"Um," said L, "That may be a problem."

Vimes looked hard at her. "Make it not a problem."

"Okay," said J, "Do you know anything about interdimensional travel?"

Rincewind slowly raised his hand. Everyone looked at him.

"I might know someone who can help you. But we need to stop by the produce market first."

"Produce market?" asked J, confused, "Why?"

*****

The agents looked at the orangutan. The orangutan looked at the agents.

"This is the head librarian?" J asked, trying not to laugh.

"There was a slight mishap," Rincewind said, simply.

"No shit."

The Librarian ooked at length, indicating each of the agents and the shapeshifter.

"He says, one banana for each traveler, double for 'Miss Octarine' because she messed about with the dimensions in the first place."

"Sounds fair," said L, who knew at least that one should not argue with a 300-pound ape.

"Of course," Rincewind added, "He wouldn't be taking people through L-Space if they weren't in the wrong universe to begin with."

"Just doing our job," said L.

The Librarian unfolded his arm and pointed to Rincewind. "Oook."

"He says to give the bananas to me and follow him," Rincewind translated.

"All that in one 'ook'?" asked J.

"You'd be surprised."

The Librarian beckoned and started to knuckle away into the stacks.

"Hold on a sec. Say, Rincewind?" J took out the Neuralyzer from his inside pocket. "Do you know what this is?"

Rincewind looked at it. "No."

"This is a device for making pictures. You know, like a group of people standing together and smiling while another guy points this at them--"

"An iconograph? I know what those are. I just thought they were bigger. You know, to accomodate the imp."

"Well," said J, "This is an iconograph from our world.."

"Okay...?"

"And I just want to commemorate this visit to your world by taking a picture of you and a couple other wizards we've met who've helped us along. One of em is Ridcully, and the other guy, I don't know his name, but he looks like a beach ball in a robe. Big guy. Shortish beard."

"The Dean?" Rincewind offered.

"That's him!" J said, "Do you think you could go an get them for us before we go?" He tightened his grip on the shapeshifter's arm as she tried to pull away. "Hey, hey, cool it." Rincewind nodded and left.

"You want to take a picture to commemorate?" asked L, sardonically.

"Just covering all the bases, in case they try to collect that donation we promised them and which we do not currently have." He set the Neuralyzer for 24 hours.

When Rincewind returned several minutes later with the Dean and Ridcully, J and L both had their Ray-Bans on.

"Ah, Mordred," said Ridcully, "I trust Rincewind served you well?"

"Yessir," said J, "As you can see, we've caught our little exhibitionist."

"Good. And as for that donation you promised--"

"Already taken care of. I just wanted to have a picture of the fine wizards of this institute to take home with us so all our friends will know what noble wizards we have the pleasure of working with." He displayed the Neuralyzer. "So if you all could stand right over there... good... squeeze in a bit... okay, now look into this little light here and say 'octarine!'"

"Octarine!"

FWOOMPH!

*****

The End


End file.
